


You Need Another Lover (like you need a hole in your head)

by Blownwish



Series: I Wanna Be Your Lover [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cheating, Delayed Orgasm, JJBella, Jealousy, Jjbek, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Pliroy, Secret Sex, more abuse of a prince title, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 08:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11756391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Otabek has had enough of Yuri's whoring around.





	You Need Another Lover (like you need a hole in your head)

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of some Prince-themed otapliroy thing nobody asked for. References to part one, Little Red Corvette, are in this fic. Might help to read it, but not necessary to catch the drift.

Yuri had been in Almaty for one hour and in Otabek's apartment for less than one second and he'd been backed up against the wall. Forget the suitcase. Forget showing him around. Forget civility and niceties and all that nonsense. There was only one thing on Otabek's mind when Yuri invited himself to Almaty, and it wasn't hospitality. Yuri started babbling - _What the hell are you doing? Otabek what is this?_ \- and he was blushing like a shocked virgin when Otabek pushed his knee between his legs and pinned his hands over his head. “Beka?”

“What's the matter, Yuri? You know what a man expects when you fly thousands of miles to his apartment.” He traces the trembling line of his mouth. “You're not shocked.”

“N-n-no.” He tries to look away.

But he's not going to look away. Otabek holds his chin and forces him to look in his eyes. “You and Leroy?”

His eyes are so big, his lower lip is so wet as he bites it, and he shrugs. “I'm - I'm sorry?”

He slams his wrists again. “You and Leroy. And Katsuki. Giacometti. Nekola. Crispino. Chulanont. De La Iglesia. _Did I miss anyone?_ ” He whimpers and he gets even redder and he's _not_ going to get out of this. “You're no virgin. Quit acting like one. You come to my city. My apartment and you know…” He pushes his body against him. Relishes the tremble and the gasp. “You know what I want. So tell me who I missed.”

“Viktor. And others - not skaters.” He swallows and he nods and Otabek knows he's trying. But yet isn't good enough. “Five - no, six others.”

He lets out a long, steady breath as the images run through his imagination. He hasn't so much as kissed his lips, a half dozen times, but one face keeps lingering there. He can't stop imagining what he did to Yuri, using him like a sex doll, a plaything. It isn't Yuri’s fault. He doesn't know. He has no idea what it means to give his body like that.

He has to learn. He will learn. Otabek will teach him.

“You're not going to sleep with anyone else anymore.” Especially one particular person.

He actually laughs. Laughs. It’s forced and it's too high but it's still pure Plisetsky defiance. “That's what he said.” Otabek doesn't need to ask who _he_ is. “I do what I want.”

“Oh, really?” Otabek leans down and smiles against his mouth. “We will see about that.”

++

He was his dream. Yuri Plisetsky represented everything Otabek idealized in ice skating: grace, beauty, and strength. He would've traded anything to have the same lithe body as Plisetsky, to be that magical creature that seemed to fly across the ice. But he wasn't lithe or flexible. He wasn't graceful. But he was strong, he had that, and he was determined. He found his own path and made his own way. But Yuri Plisetsky was still his dream.

“You're obsessed,” JJ told him last year. They were sitting at an outdoor cafe in Montreal, under the summer stars. JJ smiled as he licked the cappuccino froth off his straw. “You met him like, once. What is he?” He nodded at the video Otabek had pulled up. “Fourteen, fifteen? He's barely out of diapers.”

“Cool it, Jean. I was just showing you his routine. Don't you think he has something?”

JJ cocked his head and watched Yuri flit on Otabek's screen. “Yeah, so he's got something.” His smile is slow, and when he laughs it's the same laugh he had for Otabek’s inconvenient classroom boners back in Colorado Springs. “Nice ass.” He bit the straw. “Yeah, I can see why you're into this kid.”

“Fifteen, Jean. And so not the point.”

He took the phone out of his hands. “Not from where I'm sitting. That's what I call a bubble butt. Mmmm!”

Otabek grabbed it back. “Don't.”

“Don't what? Look? The whole world looks, Beks. And it's gonna do a lot more than look when your precious Russian Fairy goes into Seniors. You know how it is.”

He crammed his phone back into his pants. “Not everyone does the locker room tour.”

“Yeah they do.” He wouldn't stop grinning as he nudges Otabek's leg under the linen table. _”You did.”_

Sometimes he wonders how JJ managed to live this long. “It wasn't in a locker room and I was drunk.”

He winked. “Just that one time? Are you serious? I seem to recall - “

“Jean…” Yes, it was a small miracle that this bastard still drew breath. “Don't.” He didn't want to think about Colorado Springs. Those weren't memories, they were more like sleepwalking, wet dreams - they didn't _really_ happen. He opened his mouth again and Otabek glared. “I mean it.”

“Whatever you say, Beks.” He stirred the foam and licked.

++

Otabek rubs his lips against his, and backs away every time Yuri opens his mouth, nudging his nose and staring into his eyes, waiting for him to close it again so he can go back to just brushing his mouth over his. Yuri tries to push his tongue into his mouth and Otabek bites it. “It won't be that easy.” He's not like the others. He's not _Jean_.

“Oh my god! Why are you being like this?” He's pouting, now. Rolling his hips, now. Trying the tricks he's learned too well, now. “You know you want to. Quit playing games, Beka. You got me. So just do it.”

Otabek steps back. Points. “Take off your shirt. He does, and there are marks all over his neck, his shoulders, chest. “And pants.” He kicks off the cheetah print Chuck Taylors and skin tight jeans. Yeah, the marks go lower. Otabek motions with his finger, Yuri turns around and - on his ass. His ass has marks. “Jean.” He wants to punch the wall and pretend it's that smug face. “You like being branded like that?”

Yuri looks over his shoulder. His hair is a curtain he can't hide behind. And he doesn't. He shrugs. “He couldn't stop me from leaving.”

Oh, did he try? “Does he know you're here?”

He nods.

“Good.” Otabek nods, too. “That's very good.”

++

Isabella was Otabek's girl. Well, he wanted her to be his girl. She was sweet, smart and drop dead gorgeous. But she was a friend of the Leroy family. Something about her father and Alain and family business ties her up in Leroy interests and, so, naturally, she was dating JJ.

She was still his. He could see it when she smiled at him. Sometimes their eyes locked for a second longer than necessary. Her hand would brush against his chest when he cracked a corny joke and she would bite her lip, making him wonder what it would taste like. Maybe cherry? Strawberry? Did Jean already know?

Jean knew about Otabek's intentions, though, and Jean didn't like it. Not one bit. “You moving in on my girl, Altin?”

“She's free to do what she wants.” He tilted his head and watched Jean pace in his room like a caged lion. “Are you mad?”

Yeah, he was. He slammed his fist into the wood panel wall, just inches away from Otabek's head and snarled. “You son of a bitch!”

“What's the matter? Can't take a little competition?” He just folded his arms. Jean didn't have the balls to actually hit him.

Jean narrowed his eyes. “You are seriously demented. You know that? Demented.”

It wasn't the first time someone questioned Otabek's sanity. It wouldn't be the last. He just shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Fuck it.

Later that night, Jean ‘happened’ to come into the guest bedroom and lay down next to Otabek. He said nothing. He never said a word as they pulled down each other's pajamas and began jerking each other off. But Otabek knew he wasn't thinking about Isabella. Neither was he. He just wanted to make Jean come first. It would mean he won.

++

He refuses to let Yuri touch him. He doesn't have to tie him up, he just swats his hand away every time he tries to unbutton his shirt or reach for his fly. Besides, he's got his face pressed down in the pillows. He's got his ass propped in the air. Yuri is not in a position to touch him, anymore, anyway.

This isn't how he wanted this to happen.

He wanted to make love to him. Cherish him. Teach him what it meant when someone touched him. _Yes_ , he knew about the others. Yuri never hid it or pretended or lied. But the fact that Jean got there before him. Had him. _Marked him up like this_. Otabek's hands are shaking as he pats the ass Jean fucked. As his finger lingers right there, and _tap-tap-taps_ that tight, pink little asshole until Yuri arches his back and mewls like a damn cat in heat.

“He didn't like it how other guys fucked me either.”

Otabek rubs him, teases him with the promise of pushing his finger inside, and never delivers. “You want me to spank you, Yura? Call you a bad boy for teasing him? Teasing me?” He laughs. “No, baby. You're going to learn, I'm not Jean. I'm going to show you how it feels to want something you can't have.”

He reaches between his legs and traces one finger over his hard, pink dick. Just once. Yuri chokes and tries to thrust into his hand - and Otabek moves away. His fingertips slide over his thighs, his back, touch his lips and Yuri gasps. _”Please?”_ He wiggles his ass and there are actual tears in his eyes.

“I know what it's like to want something so badly, so badly it drives you to tears.” He wipes one away and tastes it. “You want, right? It keeps you up all night, staring at the ceiling, hard, desperate, wanting gold, wanting a touch, wanting so much, right?” Yuri sobs. Yes, maybe he is beginning to understand. Otabek leans down and whispers. _“What do you want, Yuri Plisetsky?”_

He shivers. He shakes. He snarls. “Make me come!”

Otabek sighs as he turns and slams the bedroom door shut. The walls tremble. “I can see we have our work cut out for us.” Let them fall down all around them, for all he cares.

++

Otabek watched Jean lazily lick her lips. His arms were draped over her shoulders. She stood between his legs and she sighed as the boat rocked and the breeze stirred her hair. Her eyes were closed, but Jean’s were open. He was looking at Otabek.

That morning, at the docks, he gave Isabella his class ring. Otabek was burning through his cellular data while she squealed and cooed and turned on her toe in a pirouette. One Junior Division ice skater with a name that was burned into his brain was on the screen.

Jean could have her. Jean could keep her. Otabek never really wanted her, anyway. His eyes were glued to the screen, to something beautiful and pure.

“You mad?” Jean asked later, as they laid together, gasping for breath in the small hours of the morning, under hot sheets and the hush of their dirty little secret.

Otabek shook his head. “No.”

“Good.” Jean touched his shoulder. “You know I don't - I don't mean anything by all that teasing?”

“Liar.”

Jean snorted. “Yeah. You're right.”

++

He spent hours on him, holding him on his lap, barely kissing him, hardly doing much more than touching him with a fingertip, watching as he sobbed and trembled and begged. Sometimes he would take the tip of his dick between his thumb and forefinger and tug, tug, tug, tug until his cock was leaking and more red than pink and Yuri was gasping for air. Then he would stop, just stop, and kiss his cheek. “No.”

He wasn't going to come. And he isn't going to come. But Otabek is going to come, right now.

He's standing over the toilet, bathroom door open so Yuri can watch, jerking himself off viciously. “I think about you when I do this.” It's true. “I think about spreading you out on those sheets and showing you how I feel.”

Yuri’s hand goes between his legs.

“Don't.”

He slams his hand against the mattress. “This isn't fair!” He sounds like a kid. A beautiful fucking boy… hard for him for hours… trembling on the edge of his bed for him, only him.

And now he's getting up - no - he's falling to his knees. “Please…” And he's crawling on Otabek's floor, hair over one eye, panting like a hungry animal. He can stop him, Otabek can do whatever he wants, but he won't stop him. This is what he's waited all these years to see. “Beka…” He's kneeling next to him, pushing his face against his thigh. “Please just let me suck you. Anything. You can come on my face even. I don't care. Just let me have something?”

Otabek combs the hair out of his face and looks into his eyes. There are tears, but there is also strength. “No one else is going to touch you. Understand?”

“No one else.” He kisses his palm. “Only you.” He opens his mouth and Otabek believes him.

++

He wakes up in the morning in an empty bed. The shower is running and he can hear Yura humming a song he's never heard. Otabek grunts as he pulls his Samsung off the charger. He's a sticky mess, but that's to be expected. Yura was a handful last night. He probably is a handful, period. He came _three times_ before he finally went to sleep.

He expects to see the time, but he's got a text message from an unknown number:

_enjoy it while you can_

Yuri's iPhone buzzes on the bathroom counter and the shower suddenly stops.


End file.
